


The Thing About Stiles

by Cimila



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Frottage, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-29
Updated: 2014-10-29
Packaged: 2018-02-23 03:34:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2532575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cimila/pseuds/Cimila
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The thing about Stiles is, well, Danny doesn't know exactly what it is but he's kinda been head over heels for it since primary school.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Thing About Stiles

You see, the thing about Stiles was… The things about Stiles… Well, Danny has never known exactly what it was about Stiles, but from that time in fifth grade when Stiles punched Wade in the face for being a racist when Jackson was home sick, Danny knew there was something. They’d been in the peripheries of each other life since they’d started school. Same primary, middle and now high school, though not always in the same classes. Half way through middle school Danny still hadn’t figured out what it was about Stiles, but it made his cheeks heat up when he thought about Stiles, gave him butterflies. 

Which, Danny would have preferred a crush on Jackson to a crush on Stiles ‘Lydia-Martin-Is-The-Only-Person-I’ll-Ever-Love’ Stilinski. So, in the same vein as hormone ridden teens all across the world when it came to dealing with unwanted feelings, Danny ignored the hell out of them. Danny would emphatically state to anyone who knew about his crush on Stiles (a list consisting of Jackson and Dannys family dog, Dog) that he was one hundred percent over it. Jacksons scoff would have him revise that statement to, ‘Okay, not over-over it, but I’ve got it under control.’ And he did, he kept this crush so close to his chest that not even Lydia knew about it, and she made a point to know everything. 

And then, grabbing a quick drink from the side lines during a time out, Danny decided he was cursed. And, indeed, hearing Stiles admit that he ‘already did that today, twice’ was the start of a severe downward spiral for Danny. He didn’t think about it for the next few days, too occupied with the not only the victory, but the fact that _Jackson_ was _hospitalised_. It was almost a week later, when thing started to stabilise again, that Danny remembered. After that, the thought of Stiles _‘playing with himself’_ , as Coach so delicately put it, was constantly on his mind. 

He really, honestly, tried not to think about it except, well, there’s this thing about Stiles, right, and Danny still has no fucking clue what it is, how he can explain it, because it’s Stiles. It just makes it impossible for Danny not to think about him, for him to ignore the stupid way that Stiles walks with all the grace of a baby giraffe, practically throwing his body from one place to the next. And, God, what Danny wouldn’t give to be the next place Stiles threw his body. So, after a few days of agony, surreptitiously watching Stiles during class, the way his long fingers wrap around pens and paper, and how Stiles will apparently put fucking _anything_ in his mouth – Danny wants to test that theory so bad it hurts, sometimes – Danny decides enough is enough. 

He leaves school during his free period, not caring that he has two more classes after, because if he doesn’t do something right now, he’s going to crack and either jump Stiles or punch him in his pretty, pretty mouth because (and Danny feels kind of horrible for thinking it, but awkwardly turned on at the same time) something needs to bruise up his mouth and Danny wants to be the one to do it, either way. Occasionally Danny thinks that the next _‘do you think I’m attractive’_ question will finally tip that scale permanently towards the ‘punch’ instinct, but it never does. 

So Danny goes home, because his parent are at work, and his younger siblings are at school, and he doesn’t even remember to lock the front door because he’s one hundred percent committed to getting out of his clothes and flat on his back so he can finally, _finally,_ work through the backlog of images he has in his head about Stiles. He’d tried to resist, tried not to think about Stiles while jerking off in the shower, because it has never solved his problem before, but Danny has officially reached the threshold of _not caring._

He’s almost completely naked by the time he reaches his bed, stumbling the last step to the bed as he tries to take his socks off and open his bed side drawer at the same time, but before too long Danny is stretched out against the sheets, wondering where, exactly, he should start. No one else would be home for hours, he had time to work himself over slowly, but he thinks back to where this most recent fixation started and Danny knows that he’s not going to be able to fuck himself nice and slow on his fingers because all he can think about, now, is how Stiles would touch himself. 

Maybe he’d tease himself to orgasm, like Danny does when everyone else is out of the house, draw it out until it’s almost painful, but Danny doesn’t think so. Stiles probably jerks himself hard and fast, like he’s worried he hasn’t got enough time, and rougher with himself for it. He’s got that type of personality, Danny muses, one slick hand wrapped tight around himself. Maybe Stiles would just spit into his hand, moaning through the pleasure and the friction; or maybe he likes the smooth glide of lube, hand wrapped real loose around himself, nice and sloppy like Danny knows his mouth would be if that’s what Stiles wanted. 

Dannys hips stutter upwards at the thought, mouth parting as he moans because just the thought of kneeling in front of Stiles makes the warm heat pooling in his gut tighten. He thinks Stiles would probably like that, like him on his knees, maybe after practice, Stiles sitting on a bench with his legs spread, because Danny sure as hell likes the thought. Maybe after, when Stiles is loose limbed and relaxed, Danny can bend him in half and fuck him til he comes again. He’s seen Stiles stretch, knows that he could fold him up against the lockers, Stiles legs over his shoulders, and fuck him slow; do him right until Stiles was a wreck in his arms, moaning and whimpering for more, for Danny. 

Danny moans again, much louder than before, as he fucks up into his hand, because thinking of the difference between the quick, rough way Stiles fucks himself and how slow Danny would make it is intoxicating. Stiles would be impatient, no doubt, trying to work himself open on Dannys thick fingers, but Danny would pull back, pin him down and then go even slower. Danny can practically see him now, legs spread over Dannys mattress, head thrown back, begging for more, but Danny would work him open nice and slow. He’d pull away slowly too, giving Stiles time to whine about the loss – the thing about Stiles, whenever Danny thinks about this, is that he always whines at the loss of any part of Danny, clenching around his fingers to make him stay, arching his back to chase the feeling. 

And then he’d move up in between Stiles legs, spreading them further with his shoulders, before burying himself to the hilt in one sure, swift stoke. 

“God, Stiles.” Danny moans again, tightening his hand, because he’s so close, toes clenching in the sheets as his thighs tense and he tries to thrust deeper into his hand.

“Danny!” Eyes snapping open, Danny slowly looks over at his now open door, where Stiles is standing, red cheeked and breathless. Danny feels his own cheeks flare red, but it doesn’t really matter because Stiles is most emphatically not looking at him. His eyes are flickering around the room, incapable of stopping anywhere for more than a few seconds. Danny really needs to say something, break the tension, because Stiles clearly just heard Danny moan his name. Except, why I Stiles even in his house, standing in his bedroom? How long has Stiles been standing there, anyway? Danny doesn’t ask any of these questions, though, because when he reluctantly unwraps his hand from around his still hard cock, his hips thrust involuntarily from the sensation and Stiles eyes hone in on the movement, biting his lip as he takes an unsteady breath and, oh. 

_Oh._

“Come here, Stiles.” It’s a huge risk, Danny knows, as he hauls himself up into a sitting position, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, because Stiles could turn and bolt. Incredibly, though, Stiles starts moving towards him, eyes blown wide, and he stops just shy of Danny. There are so many things Danny wants to do, notably everything he’s just thought about an then some, but he settled for reaching forward and undoing Stiles’ belt buckle, and then unzipping his shorts. Stiles snaps into action then, ripping his shirt off and kicking off his shorts at the same time, until he’s standing in front of Danny in just his briefs, dick straining against the fabric. There’s stillness for a few seconds, again, and Danny is certain that neither of them have any idea what they’re doing. 

So Danny takes the initiative, curling his hands around the back of Stiles thighs, high enough to feel the swell of his ass, and pulls him so he’s sitting on Dannys lap. The feeling is overwhelming; just the weight of Stiles on his legs, his body heat, is enough to have him listing forward until his mouth comes into contact with the base of Stiles neck, just at the right height for him to lean against. He takes a moment to breathe in, closing in his eyes, pressing a soft, chaste kiss to the warm skin. Stiles breath hitches, and Danny kisses him again, slightly higher, working his way up until Stiles’ mouth is half a breath away from his own. 

Danny looks at Stiles, then, who licks his lips, and that’s about all Danny can take, so he leans forward and kisses him, chaste as he’d been when he’d pressed the first kiss against Stiles’ neck. Danny shivers as Stiles drags his hands up Dannys arms, rubbing his shoulders for a moment, before his long fingers slide their way down Dannys chest. Danny tries to stop himself from shivering as Stiles explores, distracts himself with his own exploration of the miles of pale skin suddenly bared to him. They’re quiet, breathing into each other mouths, until Stiles skims his hand too close to Dannys still hard cock, shocking a moan out of him, and the moment breaks. 

Stiles stands up, suddenly, and it’s all Danny can do not to grab him again, pull him back down, beg him not to leave. He doesn’t, though, because if Stiles wants to leave, Danny has no right to keep him here, no matter how much Danny wants. Stiles doesn’t dive for his pants and shirt, though, madly scrambling for the door. Instead, he pushes down his underwear and kicks off his socks, before he climbs back into Dannys lap, pressing up even closer against him. Danny can feel an uncontrollable grin stretching across his face, so he pulls Stiles in for another kiss, and it’s nothing like their previous kisses. 

Stiles matches Dannys open mouth with his own, and Dannys glad Stiles tongue is in his mouth because there are so many things Danny wants to say. He wants to tell Stiles that he’s thought about this before, about wrapping himself around Stiles so tightly Stiles can’t leave, doesn’t want to leave. How he’s tried not to want Stiles like this, because he’d thought that there was no way Stiles would want this, about how he thinks his heart’s about to beat right out of his chest in ecstasy. Instead, he keeps his lips sealed to Stiles, wraps one hand around the back of his neck, and the other around his already leaking dick. Stiles throws his head back, then, making a sound that could have been Dannys name. 

Danny just applies himself to Stiles neck, keeping everything inside by nipping and biting his way up and down Stiles neck as he shudders beneath Dannys ministrations. He pulls back slightly, slowly jerking Stiles off as he appreciates the colour blooming on Stiles’ neck. 

“God, you’re gorgeous.” Stiles says, voice low and wrecked, and Dannys’ hand falters slightly, because he never imagined something like this. Stiles leans forward and kisses Danny again, long fingers wrapping around Dannys neglected cock, and Danny gets back with the program because _this isn’t his imagination._

“Fuck, Stiles, the things I wanna do to you…” Danny trails off as he chases Stiles tongue again, rocking up slightly into the lightly calloused grip, and Stiles moans against his mouth. 

“Li-like what?” Stiles breath hitches as Danny moves both their hands out of the way and hauls him even closer, so that Danny can feel Stiles’ dick against his own, pre-cum smearing against their stomachs, and he has to take a second before he can respond because he’s been so close to the edge since before he knew Stiles was there and the feeling of Stiles squirming in his lap hasn’t helped calm him down. 

“Stiles, I want to do everything.” Danny could give a detailed list, and decides that since this might be the only time he has Stiles like this, thrusting against him and moaning slightly, he might as well go all out.

“I want to fuck your throat until your voice is wrecked, and then return the favour. I think about spreading you open and fucking you until you’re sore and loose and over sensitive, and then fucking you some more, until all you can think about is my cock; I want you on your hands and knees begging me for more because I’m so good to you, Stiles.” Stiles is panting next to Dannys ear, lips occasionally making contact and nibbling, but mostly he’s just making small keening noises and thrusting against Danny, and it’s the best combination of anything Dannys ever felt. He should have thought of this before, when he first got his hands on Stiles, because of course talking would be what got Stiles hot and needy. 

“I wonder how much room there is inside your jeep, if there’s enough space for us to have sex in the back seat, or would we have to do it in the passenger seat, just like this, you in my lap.” Stiles moans Dannys name, then, and Danny wonders if he’s close, hopes he’s close, because Dannys not going to last much longer thinking of all the ways he wants to have Stiles, but he want to get Stiles off before he comes.

“Do you think you’d let me pin you down, Stiles? Press you into the mattress with my weight, fucking into your tight–” That’s as far as Danny gets before Stiles tenses against him, biting just underneath Dannys ears as he comes, and Danny moans Stiles name as well because feeling Stiles come across their stomachs, feeling his teeth clamp down, finally pushes him over the edge as well. 

They stay wrapped around each other for a few minutes, breathing in each others scent, calming down, before Danny flops backwards onto his mattress and drags Stiles with him, the lanky teen squawking in surprise on the way down. Danny contemplates getting up to find something to clean them off with, before he gives into laziness and uses the edge of his sheet. He feels the awkwardness trying to set in, because what they fuck, they’d just had sex, not that Danny was complaining, but there wasn’t really a handbook for this type of situation. Danny was still deciding what to say to break the silence when Stiles rolled over and buried his face in Dannys neck. 

“Talk later, sleep now.” He mumbled, and Danny thought for a second before agreeing, wrangling Stiles until they were lying properly on the bed. There wasn’t anything they couldn’t talk about later, after all, except, 

“Stiles, not that I’m complaining, but why are you even in my house?” Stiles shrugs a bit. 

“I would say it’s a funny story, but it’s really not. Blame Scott and Jackson, but blame them later, because I’ve decided we’re sleeping now.” Danny figures it’s as good a reason as any, and allows Stiles to use him as a pillow, though neither of them actually sleep. They doze, slightly, and kiss a bit, until the front door opens and they realise at the same time that the door to Dannys room is wide open. 

The resulting nude sprint to shut his door is hilarious, though fortunately not seen by anyone else.

**Author's Note:**

> This was just going to be a short piece about Danny pining for Stiles, and then it turned into Danny working through his feelings for Stiles by wanking, and the I decided no, you know what? Danny needs some requited love, and voila, Stiles. You wouldn't guess from reading it, but there is actually a plot behind why Stiles showed up, but I didn't manage to work it in. Although I am now thinking of a sequel from Stiles point of view so we know why, exactly, he was at the Mahealani house and, also, how long was he standing there watching Danny jerk off? Also, apologies for any mistakes, this is not beta'd, and it's ten to five in the morning, so, you know.


End file.
